


A Shot In The Dark

by Reiya_Wakayama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Gun Violence, Shock, Shooting, Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands, lost innocence's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was never any choice but this, but Stiles wished that he hadn’t been forced to reveal his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shot In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> So no clue where this came from. It's just, it seems like so far that no matter how much Derek and Scott and the others fight, they never gain any ground with the Alphas despite them being one member down. And it just seems like Stiles would eventually be tired of constantly having to fight and would decide that it is better to take them all down at once no matter how he had to do it, if only to protect those he loves and to keep the town safe. Maybe I'm looking too much into this but I wanted to write it out so here it is.

It’s gusty on top of the building he’s perched on. It makes his knuckles hurt from the cold. He’s alone up here with just his thoughts and what will be coming next. He’s prepared for everything. He knows where they’ll be and when. Of course he promised Derek he wouldn’t be in the fight, but he’s not. He’s far away from it and no one can see him up here, not even the Alpha himself.

Sighing, Stiles pulls the hard plastic case closer and unzips it. Inside, pieces of metal sit snuggly in individual depressions like a puzzle box waiting to be put together. Reaching for the first one, he starts to get ready.

~*~

Guns are not new to Stiles. As the son of a cop and later the Sheriff, he was raised around them. At first it was the usual “don’t touch daddy’s gun” and what to do if he found a gun “call daddy.” Then one day his dad decided he should at least know how to fire a gun. So he took him to the firing range that the Sheriff’s department used to practice at.

It went from there. From small hand guns to shotguns and rifles, Stiles devoured them, learning their quirks and feel, how to fire and when to fire; studying everything he could about them. He was going to be a cop like his dad one day; he would need to know this. And then his mom got sick and he pushed guns away to be with her.

After she died, he forgot about them. Life forced him to stop and take stock of his priorities and his main priority was his dad who was drowning himself in alcohol and work. So Stiles started small, cleaning the house, fixing a healthy lunch for his dad. And after the bad health exam when the doctors said change his diet, Stiles helped there to, always a reminder.

And at night, if he lay curled up on his bed, fingers twitching at the remembered feel of the handle of a gun in his hand, he ignored it. His dad was the most important thing right now. He could think about his future later.

~*~

The last time Stiles held a rifle was before his mother died, but like they say, it’s like riding a bike, you never forget. His hands fall into their perfect spot, his body curving around the end of it, cushioning the gun against his shoulder to compensate for recoil. His scope is ready, the silencer on the end of the muzzle in place and he waits.

It would seem ironic, that the ADHD, energetic kid would be good at waiting, but he is, at least with a gun in his hand. Something about the feel of metal and plastic calms him, lets him reach that point of absolute focus where his mind actually slows and stops and it’s just himself, alone in his head.

He sits there, perched on the top of a windswept building and waits for the others and the Alpha Pack to show. Stiles is tired, so tired of all this. Between the Alpha Pack and Durach, he’s losing sleep, barely eating. It needs to stop and while he doesn’t know where the Durach is, he knows where the Alpha Pack is.

If Derek can’t stop them then Stiles will take matters into his own hands like he’s had to do before. He will do this, so that no one else will be killed by the Alpha Pack, so no more werewolves have to live in fear of them and so there will be one less thing for him to worry about.

So he waits and they show. It’s almost too easy. One thing he has learned about Alpha’s and werewolves in general, they like to posture and talk about plans and how much stronger they are compared to you. At least Derek isn’t so bad.

He quickly loads a hollow tip silver coated bullet filled with Wolfsbane into the chamber and aims. Deucalion is just right there and his crosshairs line up and despite him begin so big and bad, a demon wolf as he called himself. Even he can’t survive a bullet to the head.

He hears it coming too late, eyes flicking up and then he’s down, a red dot right between his eyes, a third Alpha eye. For a second, everyone freezes, confused as to what just happened. Stiles takes this to his advantage and before Kali can even move from her frozen crouched position, she’s down, bullet taking her down like nothing.

The twins are harder once they start moving except then they make a stupid mistake, fusing when they think their attacker is on the ground with them. One bullet takes them both down, the two splitting apart as they fall to the ground.

And just like that it’s over. All their power, their reign of terror ended at the end of a gun. Pulling the gun back, Stiles starts the methodical routine of taking the gun apart and putting each piece back into its individual spot. Grabbing his casings he stuffs them into his pocket and leaves, no trace left behind but some shoe prints and the lingering smell of gun powder. His pack is still running around, searching for some unseen hunter lurking in the woods out of sight.

~*~

Chris Argent isn’t the least surprised to see him at his door. Stiles just simply hands the case over and the bullet casings and thanks him in a subdued voice. The hunter doesn’t even ask who he used the gun on. Hell he probably knows already.

Stiles drives home to another empty house and warms up some leftover Chinese food. Stuffing the day old noodles into his mouth, he chews slowly. Finished, he trudges up the stairs to the bathroom up there. Stripping down, Stiles steps into the shower and turns it up as high as it will go until the water is scalding. And there he starts to scrub, trying to wash away the feeling of body warmed metal and the sharp smell of gunpowder and any evidence that might linger on his skin.

It takes him a few minutes to realize that the shaking sensation is coming from himself and then he ends up in the bottom of the tub, arms curled around his legs and limbs trembling as he recalls the four people he just killed in cold blood today.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in there, but he becomes aware of his surroundings when his dad comes in and shuts the now cold water off, shushing him gently as he says he’s sorry over and over again, asking for forgiveness for things he can never be forgiven for. He helps Stiles out of the tub, wrapping a towel around him, drying him off. Helping him into his room, the Sheriff helps his son into dry clothing and then leads him to his own bedroom, settling his son under the covers.

Stiles sleeps fretfully with his back pressed against his father’s leg. The sheriff runs soft fingers through his son’s hair and sighs heavily. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from the world,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

~*~

It’s not until the third and final shot that Derek sees where the shooter is. All he catches is a glimpse of light reflecting off of a scoop on top of a building. By the time he gets there, the shooter is gone but Derek can still smell the person. His heart stutters as the familiar scent of Stiles comes to him.

Derek gets in his car and drives over to the Stilinski home but no one is there so he drives around hoping to catch a glimpse of a blue jeep. Finally, as its starting to get dark, he turns back to the Stilinski home and finds Stiles’ jeep there as is the Sheriff’s car.

He finds the two human’s in the Sheriff’s room, Stiles pressed close to his father, seeking some comfort. Stiles looks like a mess, dark rings under his eyes, skin waxy and drawn tight over his skull, except for under his eyes which is red and swollen from crying.

Derek wants to comfort the boy, to show that his lost innocence’s was worth it, that he saved so many people with his actions, but he knows that Stiles won’t see it that way. Guilt is a horrible thing that eats away at the soul, something Derek knows greatly, and he’s not sure if the teen will ever recover.

So he leaves him with his father and decides that the best act he can do for Stiles is to focus all their efforts on finding and stopping the Durach before Stiles feels the need to intervene again.

**End.**


End file.
